


In A Dungeon

by bendingwind



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-24
Updated: 2011-04-24
Packaged: 2017-11-06 00:19:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/412639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bendingwind/pseuds/bendingwind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Naturally, a foray into medieval Europe to meet the actual King Arthur ends in a dungeon. Set between The Pandorica Opens and The Impossible Astronaut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In A Dungeon

She stumbles and falls on him as the guards shove her into the dungeon, and he finds himself with a rather nice view down her bodice. He hastily scrambles out from under her and settles onto his knees, breathing heavily.

“This,” she says, also short of breath, “is entirely your fault.” She shuffles around a bit and rearranges her skirts until she is sitting primly next to him on the cold dirt floor.

“You’re the one—”

“I’m the one wearing layers of clothing and a cloth wrapped around my head, and I’ll have you know that it _itches_ , in order to fit in properly. Your tweed is not particularly to period, sweetie. And _you_ were the one caught sonicing the lock on Lady Lorein’s bedchamber.”

“How was I supposed to know they had a witch hunter in the palace?!” He is somewhere between insulted and pouty, and he can tell she’s holding back a smile. He finds it infuriating and strangely… sexy.

“We’re in medieval Europe. They didn’t need a witch hunter; a shining stick with a glowing green light at the end is a bit indicative of ungodly practices.”

He scowls at her, and her alarmingly lovely lips curl up in a smile.

“You’re so cute when you do that,” she says, and then looks embarrassed, as if she’s let something slip.

“I am not cute,” he mumbles in reply. Her eyes light up in the dim light, ever so slightly.

“Of course not, sweetie,” she teases with a grin.

“Well at least I don’t keep—keep shoving my breasts in people’s faces!”

She lifts an eyebrow. “Spoilers!” A thought drifts across his mind, the first of hers he’s heard: _I really must invest in décolletage._

“I’m not complaining,” he says, before he thinks. She laughs aloud.

“Oh, catching my stray thoughts, you ought to know better.” She winks. “But while we’re at it…”

_Flashes of skin on skin, pale and soft and smooth, the texture of silk and steel, the gentle stroke of fingers tracing out words in Gallifreyan. Words so long lost, words that once moved stars and made worlds and erased planets…_

_“Spoilers!”_ he gasps as he jerks loose.

She winks again.

“The best kind. Now, shall we get out of here?”

Before he can quite recover himself, she stands and walks to the small grill in the wooden door of their prison.

“My companion!” she shouts, and a guard comes running. In a flash he’s staring dreamily into space and somehow she’s gotten his keys through the tiny slots in the wood, and they’re well on their way back to the TARDIS.

“Where to next?” he asks as they run.

* * *


End file.
